


The Fake Dating Story That Nobody Asked For

by butrfac14



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Everyone is pretty much acting like themselves, Except for the fake dating, F/M, Fake Dating, Hayffie, Katniss is being Katniss, Peeta is having flashbacks, haymitch is drinking, post-mockingjay canon, ridiculous fake dating story, so Haymitch and Effie step up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 06:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19883200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butrfac14/pseuds/butrfac14
Summary: When Plutarch comes to District 12 looking to feature the star-crossed lovers in a television series ten years after the war Peeta is going through a rough patch so Haymitch and Effie agree to fake a relationship for the cameras. Ridiculousness ensues.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story came from a tumblr prompt and encouragement from historywriter2007

“Blasted woman!” Haymitch swore under his breath as the train pulled into the station. This had been the longest trip to the Capitol since the ride in for the Quarter Quell. Things were not quite as stressful, no one’s life was on the line this time. Just his sanity. 

Panem had been sans-Snow for the last ten years and the only real similarity between that ride and this one was Effie Trinket. 

But she was enough of a pain in the ass on her own.

He did a pat-down of his attire, not remembering exactly where he’d put the flask but _please_ _for_ _the_ _love_ _of_ _God_ let it be somewhere with a few drops of liquor left in the bottom. 

“Now Haymitch,” Effie twittered, standing up from her seat and gesturing towards the left pocket of his pants, “it’s right there- there’s a distinct bulge in your pocket. Unless you’re just happy to see me…”

Haymitch cocked an eyebrow at her as he pulled the flask out. “Just say when Eff. Since we’re in this fake relationship-”

“Not _my_ idea, by the way, be real Haymitch!”

He chose to ignore her, “we might as well get some real benefits out of it.”

Effie rolled her eyes. “Don’t be vile.”

He screwed the cap back on and slid the flask in his pocket. “You’re the one who brought it up.”

She huffed. “Please be serious for a moment? This is important.”

“I’ll try.” He enjoyed screwing with her head, even after all this time. But for the sake of his family, Haymitch knew he’d better listen to what she had to say.

When Plutarch showed up in district 12 last year it had not been pleasant. 

While the two of them were sickeningly happy together, Sweetheart and the Boy (not a really a boy anymore though, he supposed) were going through a rough patch. Peeta’s flashbacks had been triggered to a degree that neither of them had seen since his first-year post-hijacking. Word hadn’t gotten to the members of the not native to District 12 work crew that one of their resident war heroes had severe PTSD and loud, unexpected noises were one of his triggers.

No one from the crew informed the local leadership that they would be using dynamite to blast holes in the mountainside for the new Panem-wide road system. After the first round of blasting went off, shaking the ground beneath their feet, Katniss and Haymitch took off from Victor’s village, arriving at the bakery just in time to watch Peeta smash out the front window of the bakery.

So when Plutarch showed up the next day with a plan to feature “Panem’s Favorite Victors” on a televised special celebrating the tenth anniversary of the war’s conclusion, he’d barely escaped from the Mellark’s residence without an arrow in his chest.

So after some brainstorming, Plutarch came up with the idea of a new storyline- one where the other star-crossed lovers of district 12, Haymitch and Effie (ridiculous- Eff wasn’t even from 12, let alone the fact that the two of them barely tolerated each other) were going to be featured as a long-lost love story for one of the segments.

The whole thing was not exactly up his alley, but the memory of Peeta’s face as the boy spent hours rocking back and forth from yet another episode was enough to get Haymitch to agree to Plutarch’s plan.

“It’ll be nothing for you two,” Plutarch told him and Effie over a joint conference call. “You’ll just need to be seen out and about in the Capitol. Go to dinner, hold hands. Easy as pie.”

In some ways, it had been easy. Since she’d decided to finally let some of the starch out of her personality, Effie had turned out to be pretty good company. They’d had some good meals and good wine together, and conversations where Haymitch was left feeling pleasantly surprised by how much he’d enjoyed spending time with her. 

Then there were days like today when she wouldn’t shut up from the word go, but it was the last day so Haymitch supposed he should let it go.

The charade was coming to an end tonight. Plutarch told them about the final piece in his plan, a dramatic breakup scene they were supposed to perform tonight at a new restaurant’s opening. The public had begun to lose interest in the story, so Haymitch and Effie were going to get into a heated argument during which they would decide to call things off. It would be one last hurrah.

“So you have all the details down to a pat now, right Haymitch?” Effie confirmed, looping her arm through his and standing closer to his side before they stepped off the train together.

“Got it. No problem.”

* * *

There was a problem.

This whole plan would have gone off much more smoothly if Effie hadn’t shown up tonight wearing that… thing. Haymitch knew that it was a dress, but could only be called such on a technicality. It was black and tight and plunged everywhere, showing way too much cleavage and way too much leg. And what it did to her ass…

Not that he was complaining- in the privacy of his room Haymitch would have been more than happy to watch her traipse around in it. 

He tried not to think about the implications of that particular thought too much.

And then that ex-boyfriend of hers had shown up. Roderick Bowles came sniffing around as soon as they were seated at their table together. Tall, handsome, not an alcoholic, Effie had giggled and blushed while he told her about his recent business acquisitions. 

As the man walked away Haymitch was left fuming, sure that asshole would be right after Effie the minute after their dramatic “breakup”.

“I need a damn drink.” He muttered.

And then they’d begun to argue for real. There was no need for pretend anger as they hurled insults at each other.

“Haymitch, don’t be a pig.”

“I’m not being a pig! If you hadn’t come out looking like a trollop none of this would’ve happened!”

Effie’s face turned bright red. “Haymitch Abernathy, for your information this dress is _couture,_ and if you don’t like it then you are more than welcome to leave!”

“Why, so your fancy ex-boyfriend can pounce as soon as I walk out the door?” Haymitch was breathing heavily at this point, jerking his thumb in the direction of the restaurant's entrance. He happened to look behind him, and out of the corner of his eye noticed Plutarch was there, just as he had promised, with a small camera crew in tow.

That just pissed him off even more.

“Roderick? Don’t be ridiculous! I’m not interested in him any longer…”

“It sure didn’t seem that way to me!”

“Why does it matter what it _seems_ like to you, Haymitch?” Effie’s eyes were wide as she stared him down.

They were interrupted by the arrival of a waiter. The man refilled their wine glasses and slipped them a note from Plutarch.

_You’re doing great-but now’s the time for the big scene!_

Haymitch must have lost his mind then because he crumpled up the paper and threw it over his shoulder. His eyes trained on Effie, her flashing eyes and her heaving chest and he wanted to kiss her so badly right now that he would say anything to get the chance.

“It matters because I want you to marry me!" As soon as the words were out of Haymitch’s mouth it went silent inside the restaurant, and he could feel all eyes on him as he glared at her. He’d give Plutarch all the drama the man could handle.

“What?” Effie spat out, much in the same manner that one would get rid of a bite of a rotten apple.

Haymitch tilted his chin up, meeting the blaze in her eyes head-on. Effie wasn’t going to give in that easily, and neither was he.

“You heard me- Effie Trinket, I want to marry you.”

Crazy thing was, at that moment Haymitch realized that he might mean it.

The corner of Effie’s mouth turned up in a little smirk, and that’s when the first wave of panic hit him. 

_What did I just get myself into?_

“Fine. Yes Haymitch, I will marry you.”


	2. Chapter 2

d a“What’s got those damn bird’s feathers ruffled up this time?” His geese were making a ruckus, but whatever had the birds agitated didn’t seem worth getting up to check on. Probably just Buttercup anyway, that ugly tomcat was old as the hills but still liked to terrorize his birds. Haymitch didn’t even bother to look out the window.

He was presently lying on his couch in the front room of his home in victor’s village, passing the time by staring at the ceiling. There was a large water stain running from one end of the ceiling to the other, complete with bulging distensions in the plaster- momentos of the time he’d fallen asleep in the bathtub and let the water run until it became so cold he’d finally woken up to the site of a flooded bathroom floor

Sweetheart and the Boy had taken one look at his upstairs bath and insisted on hiring someone to come in and replace the ruined floor. That had been fine, understandable even, but when the pair suggested Haymitch replace the plaster on his ceiling he’d shooed them off. This house wasn’t a real home, just a place to stay while he drank, and he had no interest in prettying it up.

“But what if it collapses on you in the middle of the night, Haymitch?” Katniss asked him, scowling up at the ceiling. They both knew he rarely made it up the stairs to sleep in his bed at night. Sometimes he was too tired and lazy, sometimes he was drunk.

“It ain’t gonna kill me, I’ll tell you that.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “If you’re drunk it might.”

“Well, you know what they say- when it’s your time to go it’s your time to go.”

Instead of replying, Katniss just picked her game bag up from the kitchen table and walked out the back door, her method of wiping her hands of the matter. “We’re eating at 7 if you’re hungry…” she called to him as the door shut behind her.

Haymitch stretched back and closed his eyes, settling in for his afternoon nap, when a loud click-clacking noise came from his porch steps. Panic swept through him because that sound only belonged to one person- a woman who insisted on wearing high heels even in a backwoods place like District 12.

He’d forgotten that Effie was due to be here again.

 _I should have thought of another spot to lay down. Maybe the woods?_ Haymitch rolled off the couch and began to crawl across his hardwood floors. It was fortunate that his cleaning lady had just been here this morning or there would’ve been a sea of empty liquor bottles to impede his progress. It was also fortunate that he’d just started his first bottle of the day and was relatively sober or he wouldn’t have been able to stay quiet as he tried to sneak to his kitchen pantry.

Showing up early enough to catch him before he was completely soused was probably what Effie was counting on.

Haymitch made it just in time, scooting inside the large pantry and shutting its door behind him as he heard the front door open.

 _Here it comes_ , he closed his eyes and leaned against the shelf of dry goods.

“Haymitch,” Effie called out, “are you home?”

Nope. He grinned, proud of himself for evading her again.

Things had been a little dicey with Effie since the night he angry-proposed to her in the Capitol.

Once he was alone (Plutarch made sure to separate the two of them after their big blowout/marriage proposal in the restaurant, all the while gleefully clapping his hands and telling Haymitch that “the ratings are going to go through the roof") a feeling of dread had overtaken him, but Haymitch pushed it aside and did exactly what an old drunk did best. He’d never been a big believer in over-thinking things that weren’t life or death decisions, and this attitude continued through his solo ride back to District 12, where he continued to drink instead of think.

Hell, it’d gotten him this far. Why change things up?

Haymitch heard her footsteps in the living room.

_Right- that’s why. Effie._

He let his head drop back against the wall and closed his eyes. Surely she would leave soon if he could just manage to keep quiet…

The clicking came to a stop directly in front of the pantry door and he held his breath, his heart rate picking up as Effie became very still. The woman was as quiet as he’d ever heard her.

Was she trying to catch him?

Effie let out a sigh. “Haymitch Abernathy, where are you hiding?”

The man in question felt his breath catch. Did she know he was here?

“I simply must go over the flower arrangements for the ceremony with him, and he is nowhere to be found…” her voice was distinct from the other side of the pantry door.

Haymitch continued to hold his breath and felt his pulse drum through his ears. Flowers? What on earth was she babbling about flowers for?

“And we still need to sit down with Peeta and discuss the specifics of the cake. I know that District 12 is still as back-water as ever, but there needs to a certain distinction to the ceremony…” Effie’s voice trailed off, and he heard the sound of her heels clicking away from his hiding spot. “Of course I will need to make sure he is sober… that will be challenging enough…”

Haymitch slowly let out his breath as he heard the back door open and close.

She was gone, for now.

* * *

“So let me get this straight? You two were supposed to have broken up?” Peeta propped the shovel against the garden fence.

“Yes, that’s right.” Haymitch unscrewed the cap on his flask and took a long pull.

Peeta’s face twisted in thought, and he rubbed the back of his hand against his forehead to wipe off the beads of sweat that were collected on his brow. “I didn’t think you were actually dating each other.”

The older man shrugged and drank again. “No, we weren’t.”

“So what’s the problem? Why didn’t you just do what you were supposed to do?”

Haymitch scowled at him. “I don’t have time to answer those questions, I need a solution before Eff tracks me down.”

Peeta laughed, bending over and scooping up one of the young tomato plants to set in the ground. He seemed happy today- there’d been no sign of an episode in several months, a fact that made them all breathe a little easier. “You always were the planner, Haymitch- not me.”

He sighed. “Well, you are no help.”

“What’s so hard about it? You discuss what happened, like two adults, and you go your separate ways.”

“Your rows are slightly uneven,” Haymitch gestured with his pointer finger toward the newly planted young seedlings.

“Maybe try hitting the bottle a little less frequently,” Peeta stood again and brushed the dirt off his knees. “You’d be amazed at how much more even the rows look that way.” He walked over to the fence and grabbed his shovel to resume digging the garden plot.

Haymitch wiped a hand down his face. “Where’s Sweetheart?”

“Why, do you think she’ll have an answer for you?” Peeta sunk the blade into the earth and turned up a new pile of soil.

The older man scoffed. “Katniss? No, but she might know some better hiding spots.”

* * *

“So why did you do it?” Katniss asked their former mentor. She stood at the sink running the blade of her knife across the belly of the fish, scraping off the scales in preparation for tonight’s dinner.

There was no need to specify what the word _it_ referred to.

The temperature felt a lot lower inside the house, and Haymitch pulled out a kitchen stool to sit down, resting his forehead in his hands. He couldn’t stay for long, Effie would be sure to look for him here sooner or later. But he was starting to feel woozy. “Got anything to drink?”

“Water.” Katniss tilted her head towards the icebox. “There’s some bakery leftovers in the refrigerator if you’re hungry.”

He stumbled over to the cabinet, pausing for a moment when his head started to swim. There were spots in front of his eyes so he closed them for a minute to compose himself.

“Haymitch?”

He opened one eye to look at her, realizing that he’d rested his head against the cabinet and lost consciousness for a moment.

Katniss had a concerned look on her face, her grey eyes piercing and squinted. “You look bad. When was the last time you ate? Or drank anything that wasn’t white liquor?”

Haymitch straightened up and shook his head. “Don’t know. Yesterday?”

“You’d better go sit down.” She grabbed him by the arm and led him over to one of the chairs, before walking over to the fridge and rummaging around for something to feed him. “We need to soak up some of that alcohol.”

“You’re getting soft in your old age,” Haymitch told her but took the roll and cheese she set down in front of him without complaint.

Katniss handed him a glass of water. “Drink this,” she told him before turning to the sink to finish dealing with the fish. “And I’m not getting soft- I just don’t want to try and haul your dead weight off the floor if you collapse.”

* * *

“Haymitch!”

The man in question opened his eyes to the concerned gaze of Effie starting down at him. She didn’t look quite so “Capitol” today with her blonde hair around her shoulders and a flowy dress that didn’t look out of place in the district. It was nice to see her looking like a real woman and not a Capitolite.

Haymitch sat up and rubbed his hand across his mouth. He’d fallen asleep at the kid’s kitchen table, and his mouth felt like he’d been sucking on an old athletic sock the entire time.

Katniss and Peeta were nowhere to be seen. Only Effie. And suddenly it all came back to him.

Shit.

“Hey Eff,” he muttered, looking down to avoid her eyes.

Effie pulled out a chair and sat down beside him. They were both silent for a moment as he took a drink from the neglected water glass, giving him a moment to gather his composure while the tepid water washed down his throat.

“Haymitch, we need to talk,” Effie spoke first as he set the glass back down on the table. “You know this is a bit unconventional what we’re doing.”

He snorted.

“And if you don’t want to get married you need to tell me,” Effie said, her words soft and tinged with an air of vulnerability that he’d never heard from her.

Haymitch sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to exactly…”

She straightened her back but still wouldn’t look at him.

“Haymitch!” In unison they shot up out of their chairs, running outside to the sound of Katniss’s frantic voice.

Peeta was stretched out on his back, flopping around in the dirt while Katniss sat on his chest, trying to hold his wrists down. His eyes were rolled back in his head, and he was muttering under his breath. She had him under control for now, but it was only a matter of time until he would break past the initial confusion of his flashback.

What happened next was anyone’s guess.

Sometimes Peeta would roll over and shake until the worst of it had passed, sometimes he would blackout, but occasionally he would try to go after his wife.

They had to avoid the last scenario at all costs, and not just because he was strong enough to seriously hurt her. It’d been years since he’d laid a hand on her while under the influence of a hijacking, but any time she’d had bruises or scrapes in odd places it had been a major set back in his recovery. The last time it happened, Peeta had shut himself in the basement of their house for almost a week, and when he finally resurfaced it was all any of them could do to talk him out of moving from their home and into the empty room above the bakery.

“I’ve got him Katniss,” Haymitch said, kneeling beside her and putting his weight on Peeta’s shoulders as she slid off his body. “You’d better go get someone to help, this looks like a bad one.”

Peeta’s eyes were looking forward again, and the glimmer of _Not_ _Peeta_ was shimmering behind the surface, his pupils dilated so wide there was little of the familiar blue visible despite the bright sunshine of the summer afternoon.

He looked at his wife without an ounce of recognition and began to scream.

“Peeta…” Katniss backed away as he began thrashing. He was trying to knock Haymitch off of his chest so he could get up and go after her.

It wouldn’t be pretty if he made it.

“You need to go now Katniss,” Effie piped up, laying a hand on her arm. “I can stay while you get someone.”

Once Katniss disappeared around the corner of the house Effie stepped forward to help. “Haymitch, what do you need me to do?” she asked, coming closer and kneeling in the dirt next to a convulsing Peeta.

The older man was getting knocked back and forth and swore under his breath. “He’s too damn strong for me, I’m afraid he’s going to get loose.”

“Where should I hold him?”

“He might hurt you, Effie,” Haymitch grunted out as Peeta tried to sit up, “he’s strong and when he’s like this? It’s like trying to keep a bull tied down.”

She sighed. “I am not a china doll, it’s fine. Now tell me where before I have to guess for myself.”

“You’re too damn stubborn.”

“So are you- now tell me where Haymitch.”

At that moment, Peeta almost knocked Haymitch flat on his ass. “Mutt… needs to die… she’s a murderer… filthy mutt!”

Haymitch grunted as he climbed on top of Peeta and straddled his stomach. “I’m too damn old for this…”

“Haymitch.”

Peeta bucked him up in the air.

“Fine. Sit on his legs and hang on.”

* * *

The episodes always left Peeta completely worn out, and this one was no exception. When he came back to himself Katniss flung her body at him and cried into his shoulder, “You’re back- you scared me to death.”

His head dropped and he mumbled into her shoulder, “Are you okay?”

She wiped the tears out of her eyes and shuddered. “I’m fine, I’m just glad it’s over.”

Thom and Haymitch helped Peeta to his feet after prying Katniss off her husband's body.

“Let’s get you inside, hmm?” Effie piped in. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

* * *

Effie and Haymitch went into the kitchen and began working on putting together a meal they weren’t sure that anyone else would show up for. They hadn't eaten yet and it was well past time for dinner, but the kids were laying down in their bedroom to recuperate.

The pair of them worked in relative silence. Haymitch didn't know quite what to say to her and Effie seemed content peeling potatoes to bake with the fish that he was currently dealing with. He opened and closed his mouth several times while her back was turned, but none of the things he thought to tell her seemed quite right.

“Are those ready to go in yet?” she asked him finally.

“Yeah, good as it’s going to get I suppose.” Haymitch carried the tray over and waited for her to take it from him. The silence continued until he cleared his throat. “Didn’t know you could cook.”

Effie straightened up after putting the food in the oven. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

“Effie…”

She was silent for a minute until the words burst out of her mouth. “Haymitch Abernathy, were you or were you not the one who proposed to me?”

“I was but…”

Effie drew herself up to her full height and stared him down. Any vulnerability from their earlier conversation was gone. She didn’t look happy with him, and since he had no idea what to say that would make this situation any better Haymitch buttoned his lips and waited for her to continue.

“I’m fully aware of the fact that you do not want to marry me so you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings.”

“Effie-“

“Haymitch, shut up.”

Haymitch shut up.

“You got us into this mess. You are the one who went off script.” Effie slowly stalked his way, her eyes widening, her brow line halfway up her forehead in anger.

It was scary but exciting. Haymitch’s eyes went down to her pursed lips and he found himself thinking about kissing her again.

“And we can do whatever it is we are going to do about whatever-“ Effie gestured between the two of them, “ _this_ is after the wedding. I for one have never been married-“

“Neither have I.”

“Focus Haymitch.” Effie was practically seething with anger, and he felt his blood starting to boil for many reasons. “You proposed, I accepted. I want the party because I’m at an age that it may never happen again. So we are going to get married, we are going to have one hell of a reception- and that is final!”

Haymitch was glad he’d kept his mouth closed because he was speechless.

Did she want to marry him out of spite? To prove a point?

“Besides,” she continued, her voice calm, like a burden was lifted after getting the words out of her head, “we are already a team. You, me, Katniss, and Peeta. We might as well make it official.”

Haymitch was slightly confused but found himself hanging on her every word. A fella had to or he’d never figure out what the hell the woman was trying to say. “Official?”

Effie huffed. “A family. And besides, if you’re that opposed to the idea of marriage, we can just get a divorce later.”

Haymitch stepped forward and put his hands on her hips, tugging her forward. “Oh yeah?”

She tilted her chin up and looked him dead in the eye. “Yes.”

They stared each other down for a moment in utter silence, the feel of her skin burning his fingertips through the lightweight material of her dress. A smile lit across his face.

Fighting with Effie was always fun, but a body needed to know when to call it quits.

“You win, Eff. We’ll do what you want, but I think this whole marriage depends on one thing.” He noticed that her perfume smelled like lilacs and the scent mixed with a little dirt and sweat from their scuffle with Peeta. It was nice, natural- better than the fancy Capitol perfumes that he used to catch a whiff of on her in the past.

Effie cocked an eyebrow. “Really, and what one thing is that?”

“The honeymoon.” And finally, Haymitch went after the thing that got him into this whole mess in the first place.

He kissed her.


End file.
